A continuation from the previous fic i made for @fandomsforpali. Its connected but you can read it as a stand alone, but if you want more context go read that one first, since the topic will be the same. This time, it's from Chloe's perspective, and her new beginning.
From the moment she was first able to comprehend words, that word stood up by itself. A word her mother always spoke in nearly every sentence. A word her mom used to describe anything. A word that's engraved in her mind, body, and soul.
Like faith, Chloe held that word in high regard and use it as a measurement for herself. Even when her mom abandoned her, leaving a gaping hole in her life, she used that word in every single thing she did, in hope that one day her mom will see her as someone exceptional.
The moment she woke up: exceptional.
Passing by a mirror: exceptional.
Mistreating others: exceptional.
When she talks. When she walks. When she breathes. How she looks. Move her hands. The sway of her hair. The way she blinks. Her handwriting. In front of people. By herself. Every sentences. Every words. Every letters.
And yet, her mom never came.
It wasn't enough, she thought to herself.
She took on public speaking lesson, because her parents both works in front of cameras all the time. She took on ballet, because they look graceful and maintain an ideal body shape. She learned as much as she could about fashion, because that's what her mom is.
And yet, her mom still never once looked at her.
It wasn't enough. She's not exceptional enough.
What went wrong, she thought to herself. Was everything she did not exceptional enough, or were those not among the things her mom considered to be exceptional?
Then again, what is "being exceptional" even mean? A word she heard all her life, a word she used almost as often as her mom does, what exactly does that word mean?
That word felt so close to her, and yet so far. It's like she knows it, but couldn't exactly put it into words. Like grasping mist, when she thought she found the answer, everything slipped past her fingers.
For example, today in class, that Ladyblog girl making a speech about her dream job in front of the class. Being a journalist, what a ridiculous dream. And she made a long speech of whatever happens in the world. What a long and boring day it was.
And yet it was the only thing that stuck in her mind. Why would someone with such ridiculous outfits, looks, hair, and literally everything, stuck in her head this long. Not even XY's new song stayed in her head longer than five minutes.
Chloe refused to admit it, but there's something there. Something that caught her attention. It was a distant memory, but so familiar. It happened before once, a long time ago.
When the final piece fell on to the right spot, Chloe remembered once more: it was the same feeling when Ladybug saved her. When she talked back to Hawkmoth. That feeling of awe, of respect. It was...
Neither Ladybug nor Alya looked exceptional by mistreating people. Neither of them looked exceptional by trying to be the better one among everyone. They stood up, they spoke up. Even when they could turn the other cheek and feign ignorance because it doesn't affect them directly, they choose to face it. Not to impress, but to express. Their determination, their courage, their will.
That was exceptional. Not whatever she thought all this time. Not what her mom made her thought what it was all this time.
Like that time when she was Queen Bee when Ladybug chose her again. The desire to save her father. Becoming someone other people can rely on.
She had been exceptional.
She could be exceptional once more.
With a call to her personal driver, she went to the Town Hall and see her father, the mayor. The sudden visit caused the man to jumped from his seat.
"Oh, Chloe, my dear. What brought you here at this hour?" the man asked, putting a nervous smile Chloe so familiar with.
Usually, Chloe would face her father with some sort of annoyance from a certain unfulfilled needs. But now, she felt calm. She felt stern and steady. She knows what she wants.
"There will be a protest about genocide in Gaza this weekend." Chloe spoke, matter-of-factly.
The mayor's face was unreadable. Hundreds of emotions were mixed on that face of his. In the end, he spoke the way he always does.
"O-oh, well, that's terrible, isn't it?" said the mayor. "I'll make sure the protest to be—"
"I don't want you to stop them." Chloe cut him off, and it shut the mayor real good. Mostly from shock of his daughter not wanting a protest to be stopped.
Chloe realized it looks so weird for her to sound so calm and determined, so she brought back her whining voice. "In fact, why don't you make sure there's more police there to keep them, I don't know, from being too smelly or looking utterly ridiculous. Ugh, just do something but don't stop them!" With a stomp, Chloe left the room by slamming the door.
That was probably the fastest interaction she had with her father. Even when throwing a tantrum, she could kept it ten minutes at least, but that was probably less than three minutes.
She threw herself on to her bed the moment she came back. She was exhausted, and that's coming from someone who learned ballet for years.
Things felt so out of place. It felt wrong in so many ways, yet she felt...good. Like a load off of her back and having the bones rearranged themselves when she stretched after waking up.
It was exhausting. It was too much work. And she felt...almost exceptional.
She needed more. More of that feeling. But what else can she do?
Someone called from the door. It was her half-sister, Zoe. Of all the people that could arrive right now, she's the last one she wanted to see.
Chloe changed her position to sitting on the bed, looked at her appearance on the phone to make sure she looks the way she always look. She tested her voice and make sure she has that bratty girl voice on.
The door creaked open and Zoe presented herself, still in that ridiculous outfits—like, seriously, leather jacket and yellow pants? What a torture for the eyes.
As horrible as her half-sister looks, Chloe didn't mind her presence. In fact, she's kinda glad Zoe's here as distraction from her own mind.
A few seconds past, and Zoe still standing at the door, looking unsure. Chloe helped her with that.
"Well? Are you just gonna stand there and be an eyesore, or are you gonna say something?"
That apparently worked, as Zoe finally spoke. "Well, I just wanted to see if you're feeling...fine?"
Chloe raised an eyebrow. "And why wouldn't I be?" She said, but even she's not sure if she's feeling fine. When Zoe took too long to answer, Chloe pressured her. "Well? Say it."
"Andre called me and told me that you...don't want him to stop a protest?"
With a groan louder than she ever did in her life, Chloe buried herself deep into her pillows. Incomprehensible mumbles were loud enough for Zoe to hear it across the room.
She knew it. Chloe knew it was very weird of her to act like that. She shouldn't have done that. Why did she even do that? To be exceptional? Does being exceptional feels this convoluting?
The side of her bed shifted a bit as Zoe sits. Chloe didn't raise her head, but she stopped groaning.
"I know we don't talk too much, but maybe you wanna tell me more about the whole thing?" said Zoe. "I promise I won't laugh, no matter what it is."
Chloe peaked through the pillows and see her half-sister looking at her, thin smile on her face with reassurance. She already said what she said to her father, she got nothing more to lose telling her half-sister the same thing.
Chloe shifted herself to sitting position and told Zoe what happened at school, about the protest, and how her perspective about being exceptional had changed.
"I wanted to feel like that too, you know? Exceptional. It feels like it's so close now, but I can't even touch it." Chloe looked at Zoe. Her expression was unreadable, like there's hundreds of emotions swirling up inside, not sure which one should surface.
Great, I broke her, Chloe thought.
"Of course, I did it because I have to be exceptional. I'm Chloe Bourgeoise, after all." Chloe added with high and mighty tone, but Zoe's face doesn't change.
For a few seconds that felt like hours, Zoe apparently finally deciding an expression to make. She grabbed Chloe's hands firmly, but gentle. Chloe never realized just how...good it felt, being held like this.
"Chloe, don't lie to yourself, please."
The smile on her face felt different. It wasn't friendliness, and it wasn't fake either. It was something deeper, something Chloe very unfamiliar with, yet longed for it.
"The moment you decided to do something without expecting any reward from anyone, you have become exceptional." Zoe said. "Chloe, I'm proud of you, for doing this out of your own will, and you should be proud of yourself as well."
Like a click inside her head, Chloe felt her heart shrunk and eyes burning. She pulled her hands away from Zoe and turned around, doing a terrible job at hiding her emotion.
To be exceptional. To be proud of. Not because she worked to impress others, but because she chose it. Something no one in her life had made her feel. The feeling was indescribable.
Chloe turned back to Zoe. Her make up slightly ruined, but she had never looked happier than before. The high and mighty look she has no longer has that arrogance, but determination.
"That's it, I've decided I will be in the protest as well. They need to be blessed with a great presence such as me, after all." Chloe said. "Alright, so first, answer me this: what do common people wear in a protest?"
I'm not promising, but I'd like to write how other characters learned about the situation in Gaza and how they reacted to it.
If you're a Miraculer who also like to write or making fanarts and refuse to be silent with the genocide going on, consider joining the campaign here. Let's be a hero, together.
